


SAY IT OUT LOUD, SAY IT AIN’T SO

by luciferslovechild



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Destiel - Freeform, F/F, F/M, Hell, Hell Hounds, Multi, Original Character - Freeform, Porn With Plot, Salt And Burn, Sastiel - Freeform, Supernatural AU - Freeform, Witches, bitches, season 5
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-17 21:23:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/872111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luciferslovechild/pseuds/luciferslovechild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dolly just needed a little help, it was her first time dealing with a wendigo and she was a little shook up. A quick call to Garth fixed that, he promised he'd send over a couple of hunters to help out, show her the ropes a bit. Rated M for later chapters.</p><p>((Request fic))</p>
            </blockquote>





	SAY IT OUT LOUD, SAY IT AIN’T SO

Dolly cackled and rolled backwards over the back on the armchair, spilling beer everywhere and over herself in the process.

“Fuck, I am too drunk for this.”

In fact, she’d gotten too drunk about two Jack Daniels, three beers and four purple nerples ago. She stood, shook her hair out like a three-legged dog and blinked pond-green eyes. Her shirt was soaked, sticking tight to her skin.

“WET T-SHIRT CONTEST!” Dean yelled as he tipped his own beer over himself. “Winner gets pie?” 

Sam looked up from his laptop; across the room from Dolly and Dean.

“Are you guys for real? There’s a fucking Wendigo tearing people into tasty bitesized chunks and you’re having a freaking party?” Sass dripped from his voice like the beer from the tips of Dolly’s purple curls. Dean’s stomach growled and Dolly curled into a fit of giggles.

“I’m going to bed, keep the noise down at least,” Sam muttered, slamming the lid of his laptop and stomping out of the room.

“Jesus, that moose is gonna break my floorboards if he ain’t careful. Boy, he knows how to throw a tantrum. Wish I’d met him sooner, maybe I coulda tantrumed out of taking Garth to prom,” She laughed as she watched Sam walk up the stairs, and couldn’t help but notice how his jeans tightened and relaxed around his butt and thighs. She shook herself, and turned back to Dean who’d already downed another beer. Dolly made a face, crinkling her nose.

“I’m going to bed too, I’m not feeling so good.” She winced, but Dean just held up his thumb, scarcely looking up from the next beer. Dolly sighed. This was her house, these hunters that Garth had told her would help her deal with her first Wendigo had been crashing here for over four days, and she was sick of it. They were messy, smelly, loud and inappropriate and they left beer bottles everywhere. 

Dolly trudged up the stairs, pulling her damp shirt over her head as she did and chucking it in the hamper at the end of the hall. The bathroom light clicked off and Sam walked out. He cleared his throat awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck, looking her up and down.

"Crap, right. Sorry, Dolly.” He turned to face the bathroom door. Dolly was just about drunk enough not to care that she was half naked, beer-sticky and tired as hell, so she walked up behind Sam and tapped his shoulder. Sam jolted, brushing her hand away.

“Uh, Dolly, I’m not turning around.” Dolly arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow and stared; at the nicotine-stained ceiling, the crappy peeling wallpaper still in place from the 80‘s, the thread bare carpet under Sam’s feet. She damn well thought she deserved for him to at least look her in the eye, deserved a break from this shitty life, daddy-issues and death. Just a break. Someone who understood.

She ran a finger down Sam’s spine through his shirt, finger pausing between each ridge. The lower she got, the more rigid Sam’s stance became, until she reached the small of his back where she spread her palm out flat, half her hand on his butt. Sam released the breath he hadn't realised he’d been holding. But Dolly pulled away, rocking back on her feet, hit by a wave of nausea and pain. She curled over, feeling like something had come loose, and whimpered. Sam turned, looking down at her.

“Dolly…” His tone tinged with panic, he reached out gently. “Are you okay? God, you’re sticky. Christ, what did you do, fall in a beer bath?” 

“No,” she groaned, clutching her stomach. “But I do need a bath,” she muttered, hobbling around Sam toward the bathroom. Sam grabbed her arm.

“Hold up Dol, sure you can manage…I mean..” Dolly shrieked as the pain in her stomach doubled. Sam caught Dolly just as her legs failed her and she fell against him. 

“Just put me in the bath, I’ll be fine.” She whispered. Sam lifted her easily, careful of her stomach, one hand supporting her shoulders and the other under her knees. He carried her into the bathroom and gently placed her on the floor, before turning and starting to run the bath, twisting the hot tap and adding lavender foam from the shelf.

Dolly started to cry. She was so goddamn uncomfortable: her skin felt wrong and hot and cold, there was a thunderstorm raging in her skull and the tiles underneath her were hard and unforgiving. It felt like someone had stabbed her in the gut and tears streamed down her face. This wasn't normal, this wasn't even girl normal. She hadn't had a period since her dad had died a couple of years back, but she’d always thought it was a good thing, not being able to have kids born into the life. 

Her caramel skin gleamed with sweat as she shuddered; Sam looked at her and wondered if he should get Dean to help. Dolly looked up, reading his mind.

“Don’t you fucking dare, I can only deal with one Winchester at a time,” she coughed, blood spilling into her hand. “What’s happening?” She caught his gaze, eyes wide and scared.

“Dolly, you need to get in the bath, you need to bring your temperature down.” Sam said as he tucked his hands under her arms and lifted her to her feet. “Can you stand? Lean on my shoulders.” He ducked his head, and put Dolly’s arms onto his shoulder.

Dolly gasped, shuddering. “Sam…Sam I-I don’t feel so good.” She cried, as she coughed up more blood over the edge of the bath into the cold water. Sam’s features darkened as he watched it bloom beneath the surface.

“Dolly, were you sick before?” He asked, but she couldn't reply, too frozen to answer. In one movement, Sam stood and picked her up, bridal style, then kicked the bathroom door open and carried Dolly out onto the landing.

The wind blew harder, the rain fell faster and Katie ran further than she ever had in her short career as a hunter. She ran faster than she’d imagined even as a child, holding hands with her father as they raced down roads and through forests from the monsters. Skin covered in red splotches, grey from the cold, shirt torn and skirt hiked up past her thighs, heels clutched in one hand, feet stinging cold and brutally bare on the pavement: she ran. At some point she’d started crying, distraught at her own body’s incapability, frustrated at her own limits. There, the final corner! She turned, hand stretched out to swing around a lamppost, the red door mere feet away. She ran straight into the door, hammering and hollering something along the lines of “Dolly, open this fucking door before I kick your fucking teeth in.” 

Dean jumped to his feet, mind not even slightly buzzed despite the excessive alcohol he’d consumed barely minutes ago. He picked up a knife on instinct and walked to the door, jean-clad legs bent. 

Katie yelled as foot connected with the door. “Let me in, oh god, oh god. Please don’t be dead already. DOLLY!” Her fists continued to pound against the door. 

Dean glanced upstairs, just as Sam emerged from the bathroom carrying a bloodied and limp Dolly. “What the fuck, Sam?” 

“She, she just-” Sam was cut off from more screaming from outside.

“Dolly, Dolly.” Sobbing. “Dolly, let me in, please oh babydoll!” Then the sound suddenly stopped, followed by a hiccup and then the splatter of blood or vomit against concrete. 

“Let her-her-her in,” Dolly moaned, face turned into Sam’s shoulder as more blood spilled from her mouth. 

Dean unclicked the lock and flung open the door. Katie stared at him confused for a moment before kicking him in the groin, blood from her foot smearing into the cotton.

“You son of a bitch, you bastard! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” She ran into the hall and looked up the stairs. “HEXBAG!”

She ran into the kitchen. Cupboards were flung open, packaging ripped and contents spilled, drawers emptied onto torn linoleum floor, cutlery clicked loudly against the background of Dean’s groans. He lay, curled foetally on the floor, with eyes screwed shut. Sam stood shocked, still clutching Dolly to his chest at the top of the stairs. Dolly whimpered and passed out. Sam laid her gently down and hurried down the stairs to the kitchen. 

“Don’t hit me, I’m one of the good guys.” He said, hands up in surrender.

“I don’t give a fuck who you are, just help me find this hexbag before she dies or you’ll be first on my hit list, you freakishly tall asshole,” she snarled, opening the fringe. The contents tumbled to the floor along with everything else; milk leaked slowly towards Sam’s feet. Then Katie moved on again. Stumbling around the corner to the living room, she pulled every single cushion off the sofa, flipped the table and finally kicked the back off of the TV. Nothing, nil, nada. 

“She’s going to die, oh god. Dolly- ” Katie pelted up the stairs, the blood covering her hands caused her to slip on the banister and she stumbled. Her head felt fuzzy, and she coughed up blood that mingled with Dolly’s congealed spit up from earlier. “Shit…”

The bedroom was next: cushions torn open and their insides spewed across the comforter. Katie crawled completely under the bed, bruised and torn feet sticking out, and there they were. Small, brown bags - two of them. She reached out a trembling hand as her own illness caught up with her. She had them in her grip and then she was out from under the bed, and her chest heaved as she panted, over and over.

Sam ran into the room, and yanked the bags from her hand. He placed them on the dresser and then they were on fire, burning, as the weight Katie hadn't even realised had been pushing down her, was lifted.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this is part one of a request fic I've been promising to write for about 3 months. I'm getting there-ish. Please review.


End file.
